


Wing Study

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean asks to see Castiel's wings and Castiel finally lets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wing Study

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag Michael/Raphael/Balthazar/Gabriel because these these descriptions of their wings are tangential and from Castiel's perspective. :-)

Michael’s wings are huge, with luxurious white feathers that cascade impossibly, never a feather out of place.  They’re  _majestic_  and awesome.  Not in the modern sense of the word, but in the sense that he can manifest them with a crackle of something akin to lightning and spread them and any humans in the vicinity quake with fear and know they’re in the presence of a powerful creature of Heaven.

Raphael’s wings are no less majestic, but they’re more compact - made for flying stealthily and precisely.  They’re also white, but with flecks of browns and blacks through the feathers; they’re mottled in places.  Interesting wings.  But, Raphael doesn’t think much of using them for anything because the last thing he wants is to try to impress humans.  His wings are for using, not showing.

Balthazar’s wings are similar to those of a Scarlet Macaw’s.  They’re big for his size and flashy and he knows they’re gorgeous, so he likes to walk around with them manifested when he can to hear the “oohs” and “ahhs” they bring.  They’re like everything else about him, showy on the outside but functional on the inside.  He uses them for misdirection just as often as not.

Gabriel’s wings are made of feathers like a peacock’s tail and they’re small to match his stature.  They’re also showy, but he focuses less on how functional they are since he doesn’t really put much stock in the archangel thing.  It’s what he is, but he’d so much rather be able to get rid of everything to do with all that and live a nice quiet trickster’s life, surrounded by girls and sweets.  

The one thing they are very, very functional for, however, is  _getting_  girls.  When he’s hitting on a girl and she’s not having it, he’ll casually let his wings manifest and ‘oops, I’m an angel did I forget to mention that? oh these li’l ol wings?’ and the girls are eating out of his hands.  That’s probably the only reason he  _wouldn’t_  want to part with his wings.

Castiel’s wings are somewhere between the size of Balthazar’s and Raphael’s.  Medium-sized, with thick, black feathers.  Not matte black, though, the kind of black that prisms with blues and purple hues in the right light.  They’re good wings, strong and important to his mental image of himself.  But, he’s always considered them rather dull when put beside those of his brothers.  It doesn’t help that his brothers teased him for having boring wings when he was young.

So, when Dean asks to see Castiel’s wings, letting him see is the last thing Castiel wants to do.  He makes an excuse, then asks why Dean would even want to see them.  Dean makes an excuse, too, and shrugs his shoulders and drops the subject.  Castiel thinks that’s the end of it and he’s more than a little relieved to be off the hook.

Over the days that follow, he keeps catching Dean looking just over his shoulder, brow drawn in concentration.  It takes Castiel a few days to figure out what Dean is looking at, but when he finally puts it together, his heart sinks.  He knows that the longer Dean tries to envision his wings, the more elaborate those imaginary wings will be and he’s afraid that if he ever  _does_ bare his wings, it’ll be a disappointment.

Castiel asks Dean again in passing, conversationally almost, “Why do you want to see my wings?”

Dean gives him an incredulous look, eyes wide in that way he has of silently asking ‘how do you not know the answer to this already?!’, but he finally says, “Because you have  _wings_.”

Which, truth be told, isn’t a very good answer in Castiel’s opinion - because who  _doesn’t_  have wings if they’re an angel?  But he nods and accepts Dean’s word for it and lets the matter drop again, saying only, “I can assure you they’re nothing special.”  

Dean harrumphs at him, says nothing further.

The days stretch on and Dean keeps staring just over his shoulders while they talk, one then the other, before his eyes drift back to Castiel’s.  It’s better to show Dean that they’re dull-black-boring-nothing-special, he decides, than let him come up with some grand, colorful vision of something that was never there. 

So, he times it strategically.  He hears Dean coming down the hall toward the library where he’s looking for something new to read.  He puts his book away, turns toward the door, and lets his wings manifest.  

He unfurls and stretches them one at a time then lets them hang in the air comfortably. Finally Dean will see that they are only silly wings and they can both stop thinking about it.

"C-Cas?"  The scuff of Dean’s boots stops abruptly with a stuttered sound and Castiel hears the catch in his breath.  He steels himself for Dean’s disappointment as he looks up without a word to meet Dean’s gaze.

What he sees in Dean’s eyes, though, isn’t disappointment.  It’s wonder.  The wonder of a child seeing a rainbow magically appear in the sky for the first time, of a husband looking at the love of his life on their wedding day and wondering how he got so lucky, of an old man knowing he’ll be reunited with his wife of fifty years so soon he can feel the knowledge settling around his shoulders like a warm blanket.

Dean reaches out a hand, his mouth half open as he gives Castiel a questioning look.  Castiel nods, unable to say anything.  When Dean’s tentative fingers touch the curve of Castiel’s left wing, it’s like an electric shock, warm and buzzing around his jaw insistently.  Dean strokes through the feathers, separating them and watching as they come back together.  Over and over he strokes, watching in fascination every single time.

Cas holds his breath, the buzzing sensation tightening all the way down his spine, keeping him still except for a fine tremble of amazement of a different sort.  When Dean finally pulls his hand away, slow and reluctant, he meets Castiel’s eyes again - no less wondrously - and whispers, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, feeling suddenly shy.  He curls his wings forward as he reaches to pull Dean close.  As Dean’s chest settles against his, their arms around one another’s waists and their cheeks tucked together like lovebirds under the thick cascade of black feathers; he murmurs, “No one’s ever said anything nicer.”

"Thank you for letting me see," Dean says just before he presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips.  The only answer Castiel can think of is a pleased sigh and a kiss in return.


End file.
